


make me take my medicine

by velvetnoodle (goldfishsunglasses)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Smut, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 09:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17363303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfishsunglasses/pseuds/velvetnoodle
Summary: Here to take my medicine, take my medicine / Treat you like a gentlemanGive me that adrenaline, that adrenaline / Think I’m gonna stick with youAn unusual thrift shop find by Harry leads to a very interesting evening ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)





	make me take my medicine

Harry walks out of the changing room in the red shorts. They barely cover his arse, and when he turns that arse fully in Louis’ direction, Louis can clearly see the word “baby” proudly displayed there. Harry gives his bum a little shake as he looks over his shoulder, obviously gauging Louis’ reaction to his find.

“What do you think, Lou? Are these a yes?”

Louis wants to respond, he really does, only his throat’s gone a bit desert-y and his mind is completely blank. Void of anything that isn’t images of pulling down those fucking shorts and taking Harry right here. He wouldn’t, obviously, but he’s having a well difficult time trying to remember why not. Fucking hell, Harry’s trying to kill him, Louis’ sure of it. Murder him on the spot. It’s not fair; he knows how gone Louis is for him, even after all this time. (It’s kinda their thing. Every couple needs a hobby, after all.)

“Lou? Louis? Louuu?  _ Lewis _ .” Harry’s pouting now, and Louis still can’t will himself to answer beyond a jerky nod and a thumbs up. Two thumbs up. About to be three, if he counts— 

“Use your words, please.”

“They’re lovely,” he finally manages to croak, and Harry smiles happily. He loves to tease Louis, which isn’t  _ fair _ . It’s not fair, and it’s bloody inconvenient even at the best of times. 

Louis never  _ ever  _ wants him to stop. 

“They aren’t too short?”

Of course they are; they’re practically indecent. There’s no way Harry should be wearing those in public. They’re definitely too short. “Nope, they look great.”

“You’re a shit liar, you know.” Harry squints at his reflection and does a final slow turn before disappearing back into the changing room. “Just for that,” he calls through the door, “I’m buying the bloody things.”

This is how Louis dies. This is how the world ends: not with a bang, but with a barely concealed whimper. If the fact that he’s buying the fucking things in the first place isn’t enough torture, he’s decided to wear the bloody things home. But not before perusing the rest of the shop, apparently. Louis would quite like the earth to swallow him up now, cheers. 

He trails behind Harry, occasionally stopping to take a closer look at various items - a hat here, a CD there - until he looks up and finds that Harry is no longer in front.

“Hey, Lou! Check this out!”

When Louis turns around, Harry’s holding something in his hand, crowing triumphantly. Upon closer inspection, he discovers it’s a stethoscope. “People really will donate anything,” he says, and looks up again to see Harry leering at him. “What? What’s that face about?”

“Stethoscope.”

“...yes? Yes, it is.”

“Like doctors use.”

“Yup,” he says slowly, and then realises where Harry’s going with this. Just to fuck with him, he says, “We should get it,” and watches as Harry inhales so quickly he makes a little choking noise. 

“Really?”

“No,” he says, “no, not really.”

“Mean,” Harry chides, and hip checks Louis as he resumes poking around the shop. Louis resists the urge to find a place to sit, following behind Harry until he’s finally ready to pay and leave.

They’ve just reached the car when Harry abruptly stops. “Shit, I left my sunglasses.”

Louis crashes into his back, but plays it off as a cuddle. “Should we go back?” 

Shrugging out of Louis’ hold, Harry shakes his head. “You stay here, I’ll just be a mo’.” He turns and walks back to the shop, looking back once - furtively, like he thinks Louis might be watching him, and then disappears around the corner. Louis was watching him, of course, just not in a curious way. It’s those damn shorts; they’ll be sneakily disposed of immediately, he decides. Or hidden away so Harry can’t torment him anymore. 

The metre is close to running out. Louis glances from the corner to the metre and back again. Harry’s got the car keys; which means  _ he  _ will be paying for any ticket they manage to get. Which they won’t if Harry would just  _ hurry the fuck up _ .

Another minute goes by, and still no Harry. Louis feels a bit like a lost child in a shop, as embarrassing as it is. He glances around and shifts from side to side. The temptation to bite his nails is getting stronger, but Harry promised him a reward if he could go a week without doing it. He’d also quite like a cigarette, only the pack is in his jacket, and his jacket is in the car. And Harry’s got the keys. The keys to the car parked in front of the metre that just expired. 

“I’m back!”

Louis jumps. “When did you get here?” 

“Just now? But let’s go! The metre’s up and we don’t want a ticket,” he chirps. 

Louis rolls his eyes. Like Harry’s ever not talked his way out of a ticket in his life. His boyfriend is very charming. Too charming for his own good, usually. And Louis’. Which is probably why he finds himself in these situations so often. He’d wanted a lazy day on the couch, but instead he’d been talked into shopping with Harry. Which he doesn’t mind, obviously, because he loves Harry and loves spending time with him, but he so rarely gets days off. 

Plus, the shorts. 

The fucking shorts.

* * *

Later that night, Louis’ settled on the sofa with a beer while he watches the match recaps. Clifford left him a bit ago in search of food, and he’s missing a warm body to tuck his cold toes under. Harry’s been mysteriously absent since they got home, but Louis’ learned not to question things like that. He usually finds out in the end, anyway. And if he doesn’t, then it’s probably nothing he’d want to know about anyway. 

Still, he’d quite like a cuddle right now. Preferably from Harry. He’s in the middle of deciding whether or not to go hunt down his boyfriend when said boyfriend comes skidding into the room.

He’s still wearing the shorts. The shorts that somehow seem even tinier in the vast space of their lounge. Harry’s paired them with some… questionable choices. The plain white tee he’d had on earlier has been replaced by a Hawaiian shirt - unbuttoned, naturedly - in a hideously garish print. The yellows and greens and pinks clash horribly with the primary red sheen of the shorts, and he’s finished off the look with a pair of thick woollen socks and tortoiseshell specs with even thicker frames. 

“Fucks sake, H, it’s too hot for socks.”

“You always think it’s too hot for socks,” Harry points out, and, well, that’s fair.

Once the initial shock of Harry’s arrival has faded, Louis notices that his hands are behind his back. He’s rocking back and forth on his heels and smirking like he’s got a secret.

Louis juts his chin in Harry’s direction. “What’s this, then?” He suspects he knows what Harry’s got, but he’ll let Harry have his moment. His suspicions are proved correct when Harry brings the stethoscope from earlier out from behind his back. He lets it dangle from on finger and Louis lets out a soft laugh. “Again,” he prods, “what’s this?”

“Went back and got it, didn’t I?” Harry replies, like it’s obvious. And maybe it should be; it’s certainly in character. 

“What for?” he asks, only half feigning confusion. 

Harry shrugs innocently.

“Are you Dr Styles tonight?”

Harry glances down, and then meets Louis’ eyes, challenge clear in his own. “Nope.”

“Hmm.”

“So, wanna?”

“Wanna what?”

“Wanna play doctor?” 

Louis snorts. “Really, Haz? Doctor? Isn’t that a bit… I don’t know, cliche?”

Harry pouts. “Fine, I’ll just have to do my own… examination.” He saunters out of the room, swinging his hips deliberately. He looks at Louis over his shoulder, flutters his eyelashes, and ascends the stairs to… Well, he can only imagine. 

Louis manages to hold out for all of 10 seconds before he’s jumping to his feet, nearly upsetting his beer in his haste to get upstairs. Let Harry be smug all he wants, Louis doesn’t give a fuck. 

He’s got a needy patient to attend to. 

* * *

Louis wasn’t sure what to expect when he crossed the threshold into the bedroom he and Harry shared, but it wasn’t this. “Why are your clothes still on?”

Harry’s eyes widen, feigning innocence. “What?”

Oh. So they’re doing this, then. “So, we’re doing this, then.” It’s not a question, but a (somewhat resigned) statement, and he laughs quietly when he sees the way Harry’s face lights up. “Should I leave the room? Make a more dramatic entrance?”

Harry seems to consider the option for a second, and then quickly shakes his head. “Don’t wanna start from the beginning. Want you too bad,” he says, blatant honesty never failing to get Louis hard.

“Alright.” Louis doesn’t know where this is going. Well, he does, but it’s not going the way it should go. Then again, this is Harry. Harry does things his own way. It’s both one of his very best (and most annoying) qualities, in Louis’ opinion. “Where are we starting?”

Harry shrugs, and Louis bites back a sigh. An affectionate sigh, sure. But still. He sends a quick apology to his bollocks for the prolonged teasing they’re about to endure, and waits for Harry to make up his mind.

“Well,” he says, like he’s still mulling it over, “you should be naked. Probably. ‘s not like you have a proper costume, or anything.”

Louis shoots him a look that he hopes conveys  _ duh.  _ “That’s not really the kind of thing most people keep on hand, you know.” Then again, he reasons, most people don’t surprise their partners with secondhand doctor equipment. But whatever. 

“We aren’t most people, silly,” Harry giggles, and he has a point, really. 

“That’s fair,” Louis says, and Harry beams like Louis’ given him a present, or something. (Knowing Harry, maybe he has.) Louis watches as Harry lets the stethoscope slip from his fingers onto the mattress and slink forward until he’s crowding Louis’ space. Louis lets his eyes fall closed, and yelps when Harry pinches him on the wrist. 

“Pay attention,” he chides. “You’re supposed to be a professional, remember.”

“Oh, love,” Louis smirks, “there’s nothing professional about any of this.” 

“Careful, doctor, you don’t want to lose your licence, now do you?” 

“How the fuck is that meant to be sexy? We haven’t even got to the good bits and you’re already scaring me knob away.” Louis frowns, and then yelps when Harry bites at his neck.

“I thought I was leading this.”

“Not if you’re gonna be bloody terrible at it. Jesus, Haz. Honestly.” 

Harry pouts. “Fine.” His pout quickly slips into something Louis assumes is meant to be seductive - something Harry can only achieve when he isn’t trying as hard as he is right now - and then there’s cold fingers slipping under the hem of his top and skimming the elastic of his pants where they’re peeking out from the waistband of his trackies. “Is this better?” He must take Louis’ low moan as confirmation, and he’s tugging off Louis’bottoms with clumsy hands. Louis lets them slide down on their own, and steps out with a surprising amount of grace. 

Until Harry’s grabbing at him greedily, making Louis stumble as Harry frees his cock. Harry’s own erection is obvious, and Louis has to clench his hands into fists to stop from reaching for it. Instead, he pushes Harry away and kicks his pants the rest of the way off. He takes a moment to enjoy the way Harry’s swaying, like it’s an immense effort just to stay upright, and then picks up the stethoscope from where Harry’d set it on the bed. He goes to stick the buds in his ears, but Harry stops him. “No, just, like, drape it around your neck or something. Like a real doctor?” Louis does so, and Harry nods. “Yeah. Yeah, exactly like that.”

Louis shrugs - internally, so as not to upset their new toy. He doesn’t really get how this counts as ‘doctor’, but he’s willing to play along however Harry wants. 

Harry, who’s just dropped to his knees in front of Louis. The impact on the floor has Louis wincing, but Harry, as always, is completely unfazed. Christ, he’s so fit. Harry’s lips part slightly, and Louis knows where this is going now. He knows what Harry wants. What he needs.

“Open wide,” he orders softly, and slowly feeds an overeager Harry his cock. Harry’s eyes flutter shut, and Louis closes his own and groans. “Feels so good, love. You take it so well.” He shudders when Harry hums happily, and brushes the curls back from his forehead gently. Harry’s hands are clasped behind his back, something they don’t do often, but enough that it’s been discussed and planned and Louis knows he can trust Harry to speak up if it becomes too much. 

Harry lets his jaw go slack, a sign he wants Louis to take over completely, and Louis frowns. “I wasn’t aware you were in charge,” he scolds. 

Harry pulls off. “I think I need to take my medicine.”

Years of drama training lends nothing to stop Louis from immediately breaking character and cackling. “Bloody hell, Haz, what the fuck was that?”

“That’s not very professional of you, Dr Tomlinson,” Harry replies petulantly, and tries to take Louis’ cock back in his mouth. His lips barely brush the tip when Louis tangles his fingers in brown curls and pulls Harry’s head away. 

“I told you before, love, we crossed that line early on.” He’s fighting back laughter now, and Harry lets out a snort of his own. 

“Fine,” he relents, “this particular idea didn’t work. But can you blame me for trying? You make a well sexy doctor.”

“Ta, darling.” And then Louis’ full on laughing his arse off. It gets worse when Harry tries to chase his bobbing cock with his tongue out, and anything sexy about this idea has effectively died. Not even Louis’ new trusty stethoscope and doctor title can save it, or even the way Harry’s looking at him with half-lidded eyes. 

“I don’t think roleplay is for us,” Louis says, once he catches his breath, and Harry rolls his eyes, but nods his agreement, and lets Louis help him off the floor and into bed. He’s still hard, and Louis is certain that the failure of his plan will deter Harry from any similar schemes in the future. He’s confident in it, even, especially since Harry promised and all. 

He lets Harry’s long limbs envelop him, and pull him closer. He’s not tired, but Harry is soft and warm and smells nice, so he lets himself be cuddled and kissed, the stethoscope lying forgotten on the ground. Hopefully forever, if Louis has anything to say about it. 

(In the end, the resolution barely lasts a week, and is broken the day Harry breaks out the sexy nurse costume.) 

(And those  _fucking shorts._ )

 

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr :D](http://velvetnoodle.tumblr.com/post/181875577207/here-to-take-my-medicine-take-my-medicine-treat)


End file.
